


Speak Lord

by Sing



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Contemplation, Conversations with God, Divine Encounters, F/M, Gen, Spiritual, thoughtful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it sounds like.</p><p>They all have questions</p><p>I'm taking on the voice of the Almighty in this one, trying to make sense, in a spiritual way(that I hope makes sense and is respectful) to the events of the (worst) finale ever. </p><p>How can those left behind make sense of the losses they have experienced, in what is supposed to be a Biblical fight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak Lord

**Author's Note:**

> They all have questions.
> 
> I also just want to make it clear, I DO NOT think Abbie had a good death. But I'm writing from the point of view of God, and I don't think God necessarily views death as a bad thing. 
> 
> I hope I haven't offended anyone in anyway with my take on the Lord Almighty. 
> 
> I'm also surprised I wrote this, I was sure I'd never write fic for this fandom again. 
> 
> Comments please!!!!

At night, when it is silent and there is no shuffle of feet in the hall, no groan of trailer as one turns, no intermittent humming or grumbling in slumber. 

Abbie contemplates her stasis.

Crane's heart echoes the dead air.

Jenny's mind rears with fury. 

They fall on their knees, not for the first time. Clasped hands and confused voices. Angry. Fearful. Mourning. Thoughtful. Curious. Seeking.  
******  
Jenny has scratched her skin raw in her grief. Crying and railing at the Heavens. "Why did you do that to me? All of this Divine Purpose and you destroy everyone who fights with you, for you, you take and take everything and what have we ever gotten in return? You have turned your face from me so many times and this once, when I think again you dash it all on the rocks, why bother serving you? You took Joe, who I only just began to love. You took Abbie, who was stolen from me---WHY did you take them? I needed them. And you....you took them. Am I nothing to you? What Kind of God---"

A crash so loud her teeth chatter. Thunder so strong and rolling she feels the ground beneath her shift. Wind tears through the windows, a shrieking wail that raises the hair off her scalp before falling into a rapid deadened hush. The air is too still. Thick, like fog. Like a blanket. 

Jenny had screamed when the disturbance lanced through her trailer, now she remains on her knees, eyes wild, hair wind tossed and searching for an intruder, listening for a beast---at last at least, she thinks, something with purpose, something she can hurt, kill---

"My Son was tormented," says a voice. 

Jenny pauses, eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping along her skin. "Come out now demon and let's be done with this."

"Jennifer Mills" it intones. 

Something in Jenny, in her core, her heart, deeper, in her soul, reverberates with the force of the voice. Hums, awakens. A sort of distant recognition flickers in her brain. Like a tether suddenly pulled taut. Jenny knows this is the voice of the Almighty. "God....?"

"I hear my Daughter weeping and I must answer her pleas. I hear her mourning lives run out. You harm yourself in their name. I come to comfort you."

"Joe...." Jenny says weakly. 

"My Son was tormented."

"Why didn't you save him from that?" she snaps, her sudden reverence fracturing in a moment. "After all, you are the Almighty God, you're omnipotent! Nothing is beyond your power---WHY DIDN"T YOU SAVE JOE---"

"WHO TOOK DOWN MY SON FROM THE CROSS" the Lord roars back and it quakes Jenny through and through. "I gave my one begotten to save the world, to let there be eternal life. That when your mortal lives have breathed their last they will come and live in my abundant kingdom. Free of sorrow. Free of pain."

"It was supposed to be gone. I never meant to shoot him, I never would have....it wasn't his time to die. Why couldn't you---"

"What is Death to me, when it gave me back my son, and gave the world it's salvation" 

Jenny's lips tremble as she breaks down in tears. "The Horseman---"

"The Death offered by harbingers of the apocalypse is waking torment. No soldier of mine."

Jenny nods.

"But should you fall before your time--I welcome you home. What is Death but a homecoming to my side. To be with me once more in peace. To rest. The little babe that dies too young comes home to me. The elderly come home to me. Earth is a staying place. You are none of you meant to dwell here forever. In the end you must all come home."

The truth of it stings. She knows this, she does, but it doesn't hurt less. The reminder of the debt all human life owes hits her ten fold. 

"My Son was tormented by the evil of the world and fought it. He sought counsel and battled in my name. My Son was brave and because you did not trust your fellows" 

Jenny wracks with a heaving sob, yes, this guilt she knows. She needs someone else to acknowledge it, she needs to feel this hurt.

"Had you trusted your brothers and sisters in war," The Lord continues gently. A warmth touches her cheek, blooming across her face. She opens her eyes but there is no one in the trailer with her. "Had you loved and honoured them in your fight---distant your bonds were but you are my children and are each other's keeper, the abomination that masquerades as glory would not have turned your love against you. But I do not abhor or blame you your choice. There was no wrong, in what you did. You delivered him, daughter. You gave him peace. He waits here for you." 

Understanding, forgiveness she has still struggled to give herself. It fills her and crashes over her again and again. 

"But Abbie---"

"My Daughter rests. They wait here. Do not mourn the ending of their mortal span. Celebrate the beginning of their eternal life"

"Her soul---Abbie's supposed to---"

"Jennifer Mills" the voice intones and it sounds like a gentle parental reprimand. "Live your life well. Live it a warrior, true to your heart. Honour the love he gave you, that they gave you, Their bravery. Hold fast and keep your place here, beside him. For your time will come too, my child. And You will have eternities of peace together,"

A rushing roar and the trailer stutters back to life, the air clears. Jenny gasps with shock, tears drying on her face even as her eyes brim with more. But something has changed. There's something within her, inside, flickering and beating fast, like tiny wings. 

"I have never forgotten you," the warm voice comes to her ear. "I have been with you, always. But only now have you ever wanted to hear me, only now have you ever wanted to listen. Be strong, my daughter" 

A nervous laugh rattles through her lips. She claps a hand over her mouth. She must be hallucinating now, but she thinks she sees Joe smiling at her on the bed. Abbie leaning on the wall, arms folded, looking at her calmly, before they disappear. 

"Be strong Jenny," their voices wash over her like an embrace. 

I'm not alone, she thinks then. Even when I am, here, I'm not out there, not in the world. He... she cries again, overcome.

No matter how rejected Jenny may have been by humans. 

She knows she has been loved.

And never forgotten.

She stays on her knees a while longer, head bowed. Murmuring her fears and unburdening her heart. All of the old woes with her new. She will keep mourning, and grieving,but tonight she believes for the first time there might be a time when this fresh pain will become an ache. 

One day they will meet again. 

The fragile waking thing inside of her is Faith.

Hope.

*****************

There is no assurance that Crane prays to the ultimate Deity or to Abbie. These days he falls to his knees and murmurs incoherently, keening for the Leftenant he didn't try harder to save. For the Destiny that is by design meant to wrench them apart. He demands explanations for this cruelty. 

This.

This he can clearly communicate to God. He picks this same bone with the Heavenly Father---it is inevitable his train of thought will veer here. It meanders through woes, of missing his partner, friend, the love of his life though he never dared speak it. Tip toes around the fragile obstacles of carrying his life on and wanting to throw himself at the mercy of the next adversary in hopes of a reunion. He berates and curses this predetermined fate. 

He begs for deliverance from this life--to join her. He always wishes to join her too late. 

The curtains rustle and Crane suddenly feels warm. 

As though he is not alone. 

"Abbie," he keeps whispering, drawing patterns on her made bed. This is wear he comes, its his nightly ritual. "Why didn't I join you" he slams his fist on the bed, gripping his hair between his fingers. Composure be damned. No matter how straight laced he is to the world at night he unravels. His threads come undone and he collapses into this pile of miserable despair, beckoning and hoping Death will come riding in and do him the favour. "I should have saved you," he spits out. "I should have--why did I let you--"

"My Son was weak" 

"Yes, yes," Crane nods, barely registering the divine presence looming around him. 

"My Son could not love wholly as I have commanded my children do. My Son withheld. He squandered his blessings, and then asks his Father why he no longer brings him gifts,"

"Yes yes yes yes---" He pauses, a pressure on his shoulder. 

"Ichabod Crane"

"Lord Almighty," Crane answers, scrambling to his feet and casting around the room. "Is it you, then, Lord? Surely, you have come back to return---"

"I have returned one, only, His death paid for the sins of the earth."

"No, no" He begins to argue, the Lord beholds this disheveled impossibility that is, in his way, a blasphemy to his own Son. He's an abomination, if he is to be strict about it. No one rises since the beginning days. No one rises since his Son rose, since his disciples went forth to do his work, to spread the word of his dominion. 

By rights, he SHOULD be coming to collect Ichabod Crane. 

He did not pay his debt when it was owed, and he's accumulated interest now, surely. Two hundred and three years of it. 

"No---you can bring her back. It is your trade," Crane continues, in that vexingly calm, yet confrontational manner. 

He made this man, he thinks, this willful man. This willful foolish man who would dare argue with him. It is no shock to him, he has had the fortune of creating and meeting those who doubted, many times. 

"My Daughter honoured the memory of the first before her, the King of Kings, and gave herself for the world. My Daughter was obedient unto Death, as he had been. She loved the world, unparalleled, more than she loved herself. Her spirit was willing"

"So you took her," Crane spits, seething. 

"She GAVE herself. As you GAVE her."

"I NEVER--"

"DID YOU CAST YOURSELF BEFORE THE BOX AT HER SIDE. WAS YOUR LOVE NOT GREAT ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU BRAVE"

The force of it rocks Crane to his knees, and losing his balance he falls back and scrambles backwards until his back hits the bed frame. He claps his hands over his ears. 

The voice continues now, strong and no room for arguments. "My Daughter's love was so great she would sacrifice. Her love was so strong, it could not be contained by her mortal shell."

"It wasn't her time."

"Mortal time is any time," The Lord corrects. "There is no exemption. Only homecomings."

"Her soul, is eternal, in some form, she will return, she must---"

"Her soul is hers. The fight passes, the bravery. Her line inherits it. They serve themselves, living their lives well, fully. They serve me the Almighty God. They answer to no one. They serve no mortal. They are beholden to no man."

"Our destiny--"

"She has served, Ichabod Crane. She fought her valiant fight, her own way. She will rest."

"Her soul" Crane insists. 

"You will find her in the eyes of brave, in the heart of the strong. She will become a part of you and the world. Sacrifices so great impart themselves on those they have loved and saved. That is what lives on. Her gift. Do no search for replacements. I have crafted each one of you, perfect and unique. Do not hope to duplicate your partner and love Grace Abigail Mills. My Daughter has come home. Fight your fight now. Remember her courage. Keep her. Earn your place at her side."

"Will she be there? if--"

"Taking your life will not take you to her plane. She is with you. That too lives on. You will one day be complete enough to be brave. One day your weakness will become strength. One day you will love all the world so selflessly, that you will give yourself. And you will come here. You will rest."

"Fight, without her,"

"Do not dishonour her memory to think you are alone. Fear not," 

The room is quiet. Crane blinks in astonishment, for a moment unsure if he's imagined the whole encounter. He feels shattered all over again. The Lord God, the Creator of all has just as much banished all hopes he has of finding Abbie's soul again, of ever finding her---but he has also assured him of her singularity--which is a comfort of sorts in its self. It has been a hard thing, something to wrestle with, imagining he might forge that same bond with some one else. There is a peace in knowing she has influenced the world, and that whatever her spirit, the power of that sacrifice has imparted to the world, might bolster courage and fighter spirit in another, who might be able to take the fight. 

But not a replacement. He heaves a sigh of relief. Not a substitute. Abbie is her own, and has only ever been. She is whole, beyond, enjoying her reward for her heroism. For being, Abbie. 

Her truth. 

He will not search for another to understand him, to fulfill him, for a second chance to utter his love--that chance is lost until they meet again--properly--on the other side-- Those all belong to Abbie. 

"Fear Not," he mutters to himself as he rises to his feet and approaches the window, he thinks he sees Abbie skipping down the front steps, down the driveway, pausing to wave over her shoulder. "The Lord is with you," he whispers, hand pressed to the glass, overcome with longing but a joy. Abbie is, and he need not fret worrying of the violence of her soul being shoved into another. 

She watches him a moment after she waves, as if considering, before blowing a kiss. He blows one back. 

"And Also with you,"

***************************

"I wasn't ready, not really," Abbie says, she floats amidst a constellation. The novelty of meandering places that resemble earthly haunts has worn off and began to make her melancholy. Her Father lead her away from the porch some days--months---years? ago. Time is strange here. Still and swiftly passing all at once. 

"Come my child." and she had gone with him. "Sorrow is earthly, and you are free of that here. Do not hunger for mortal pains."

"I miss them," she confesses feeling ungrateful and braces herself for wrath. Instead she feels the glow of his Holy Face turn on her. 

"You loved the Earth." a statement, not question. "You loved your life. You loved the people in it. You loved him," he does not clarify which him. In spite of what happened between her and Danny, it was clear in the catacombs on that return trip, that her heart had taken a violent and determined turn to the contrary. She nods silently in agreement. 

There is silence and angel choruses rising and falling around her. "I am glad of it. You loved and well."

"I still had more living to do. I miss anger and pain and joy"

"You have known the full spectrum of it. The satisfaction of living. My Daughter has lived. And now she will know the life after."

"I thought I was supposed to go back, Corbin said--"

"Your task, your destiny, is not a transition of one body to another. Each Witness has their own soul. Their own bravery and heart. Your offering of your life, your sacrifice, it creates a spark, ignites the fire of the next, it summons them. But each one of you, are your own. Why divide and tear asunder my beloved creations? You will not be returning, my Daughter. You loved and lived. My Daughter was brave, you inspire the next in line. You are all chosen, yes. You have the mettle and might. Some will answer the call sooner than others. But you have served. You have earned rest, and peace. This is your home now."

"With you huh?" Abbie jokes, leaning towards the light in what approximates a nudge. She freezes, forgetting this isn't Crane or Jenny she's joking around with, thinking she must have offended. 

The beam of light turns on her again, bathing her in His glow. She gets the impression he is smiling down at her. Ahead of them, she sees the form of an assembly. She has been mostly unwilling to embrace this body of light. Bent on the understanding that she will travel elsewhere and leave them behind, why bother getting attached again?

But it is not HER that will go back. Not her soul, not her spirit. But she is a summons for the next in line to wake up their own courageous spirit, their own fearlessness, to light their torch and wield it in the darkness. She remains here, and it's a sort of comfort, though she is a fighter, has always been, there is a peace to knowing she can remain whole. That she can now enjoy the reward for all of the times she put others before her. 

This new eternal life, here, this is hers. She has forever to learn and enjoy this life. The body of light takes form. She blinks back tears. Joe and August, Mama, and Grace, and others, so many others, it becomes blinding swathe of light the further back this crowd extends. They are all hers. She is theirs. They are ancestors, family, people long gone centuries before her, but they are kin, brothers and sisters in Christ. They are welcoming her. 

"And with them," the Lord answers at last, and she goes toward them. Somewhere in this crowd there is a light shining brightest of them all, arms outstretched. 

"Kings of Kings and Lord of Lords," she murmurs reverently as she approaches, they all close in around her embracing. She feels light yet strong. 

"And him," The Lord reminds her, she knows he speaks of Crane. "In time, he will come to you," 

Abbie turns over her shoulder. "How do you know?"

"Love is infinite, it varies in strength. But at its highest peak, it knows no bounds. It overcomes all. Are you not standing among the proof of it?"

"Oh love, that will not let me go," she sings softly, smiling and turning once more towards her loved ones waiting for her. 

To begin her Eternal Life.


End file.
